“Mr. Earnshaw, it’s me, Mina Wilde. You hired me yesterday? You said I needed to show up at eight thirty on the dot, no earlier, no later.”
I heard a noncommittal grunt. “Fine. Go buy coffee while I find some trousers.”
I tried not to let my mind go to the delicious place where my new boss’ toned body was unfettered by clothing. It wouldn’t do to think of him like that, especially when he was such a grump. I went across to the bakery and ordered two cups of steaming coffee, as well as a couple of scones still warm from the oven.
The shop door flew open just as I ascended the steps. Instead of Earnshaw, within its frame stood another fine specimen of the male persuasion. This gent stood so tall he had to stoop to duck beneath the door jamb. A crisp white shirt tugged across broad shoulders, and a finely tailored grey jacket accentuated his majestic frame – the kind of wiry musculature one obtained through energetic exercise like cycling. Close-cut brown hair topped his head, and he carried a leather laptop case with a confidence that suggested he could kill me with it if required. A pair of ice-blue eyes fixed on mine, and the smile that played across his lips was pure devil.
Oh yum.My stomach burned for something that wasn’t breakfast.I could eat you right up—
“Why, you shouldn’t have.” The guy whipped out a long-fingered hand and swiped one of the scones from my tray.
“Hey, that was for Mr. Earnshaw,” I said.
“He doesn’t need it. Sugar makes him cranky.” The guy chewed happily, wiping a speck of cream from his perfect nose with the back of his hand. “Trust me, I’ve just saved you from a torturous morning. No need to thank me. I’m James Moriarty, at your service. Everyone calls me Morrie.”
He stuck out a hand. I shook it, an electric pulse running up my arm and straight between my legs. Isis help me, this man is trouble.
“Your name isJames Moriarty, like the villain from Sherlock Holmes?” I snorted. “No wonder everyone calls you something else.”
“I can assure you, the association is coincidence. James Moriarty the character fell off a cliff, and since I abhor the great outdoors, that’s unlikely to happen to me. As is the nature of nicknames, I had no choice in the matter. If I had, I’d make everyone call me ‘Your Highness.’ Or perhaps, ‘Oh well-endowed one.’” He winked at me, and my stomach flipped. “You must be the new shop assistant. You won me a bet, so I like you already.”
“Bet?”
“Yes. I’ve been bugging His Royal Surliness to get an assistant for several months now. He was convinced no one would want to work for him. I bet him a hundred quid that if he put an ad on the app, he’d get at least one applicant. He agreed to the bet on the condition he wrote the ad and I uploaded it, since he doesn’t know what an app is. And here you are, which is fascinating.” Those icy eyes swept over my body. “You grew up in the village, but you’ve recently returned from overseas. America, if I may be so bold? Perhaps New York?”
I blanched. “How’d you know?” I hadn’t told Mr. Earnshaw any of that.
“It was a series of simple deductions. I heard you speaking to Mrs. Ellis, and from her words and her previous occupation as teacher, I concluded you must have known each other from your youth. Even if you hadn’t yelled it in the street, I guessed New York because of the slight accent you’ve acquired. That you’ve been away some time is evidenced by the fact that everyone in this village knows not to knock on this door before nine, if they know what’s good for them. Especially if they’re carrying the wrong kind of coffee.” Morrie swiped one of the two lattes on the tray. “He prefers his black.”
“And how do you know that?” I fumed. Those coffees weren’t cheap, and my funds were running low. I hadn’t expected to also be buying breakfast for a random stranger.
“Ah, but that should be easy for you to deduce. No time to talk. The game is afoot.” Morrie hopped down the steps, his laptop case banging against his long legs. He glanced back over his shoulder, throwing that wicked smile at me once more. “If you ever get bored of trying to wrest an intelligent conversation out of your friendEarnshaw, go upstairs and wait for me. Oh, the fun we’ll have, Miss—”
“She’s not going upstairs,” Earnshaw glowered. He strode down the steps and whipped the remainder of the scone out of Morrie’s hand. I opened my mouth to speak, but he’d already disappeared back into the depths of the shop. “You better get inside within the next thirty seconds,” he yelled from the other side of the door. “Or I’m giving your job to the bird.”
Morrie shrugged. “He’s a little precious about his personal space. Honestly, I’m surprised he even lets customers into the shop. I’m his flatmate and he won’t even let me cook him dinner. And I’m a fantastic chef.”
“So you live upstairs, too?” I asked. My fingers gripped the doorknob, conscious of Earnshaw waiting inside for me. But Morrie’s smile had me frozen on the spot, my legs a pool of jelly. A delicious shiver ran down my spine as I felt Morrie’s eyes roam over my body again.I hope I get to see a lot more of you, you strange and delicious creature.“Do you also work in the shop?”
“Not bloody likely. I have a real job.” Morrie checked a smartwatch on his wrist. “Which I should probably be getting to. But I’ll stick around for a few more minutes if you like, make sure he actually lets you touch the books.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I grinned at Morrie.This day is looking up.
Morrie escorted me back to the bakery to buy another coffee and scone. When we returned to the bookshop, he held the door open for me, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture of chivalry. My eyes struggled again in the dim hallway. Two dark shapes darted across the brown carpet in front of me. I followed them into the main room. A black cat stood on the large oak table with the globe on top, one paw raised in defiance as he stared up at the chandelier above. The raven perched on one of its spindly arms, waving the tip of his wing just out of the cat’s reach.
“You’ve played the game before, Grimalkin,” Earnshaw muttered to the cat without looking up from the computer screen. “You always lose. Why would this time be any different?”
I set the coffee on the desk. “I hope you like it strong and black.”
“Like my soul,” he sighed and grabbed the cup.
I waited for Earnshaw to give me some instructions, but he kept his eyes glued on the screen as he sipped his coffee, his mouth twisted in an ugly scowl. Morrie folded his lanky body into the wingback chair under the window. He slid his phone out of his pocket andtap-tappedthe screen, but I could tell he wasn’t reading it. His eyes burned trails across my body.
“So…” I swung my arms around. “Where do I start? Can I take down the black-out blinds and arrange some window displays? Or I could dust the shelves in the—”
“Yeeeeooooow!”
I whirled around just in time to see a flash of black streaking behind the Medieval History shelves. The chandelier swung wildly as the raven unfurled its wings in victory.
